Friday, 29 July 2011

The Fox

I walked down the road as I reached a wooden bridge I see a sleeping fox. I pick up a stick and head across.
The fox jumps up and goes for me, I fight him off hitting him repeatedly. I think I've won but as i turn he punctures my left leg, I struggle as he tears at my flesh. We lose balance and fall into the hostile North Sea, I'm battling the waves and reluctant vermin. My neck flings back and I see the concrete breakers, I reach out but the slimy surface collects in my nails rejecting my clutch. My body wrapped in the waves raises to land, I hold out on to the metal railings and pull myself out. The fox is pounded against the concrete and I run.